Secrets Unknown
by eyesdyedblack
Summary: When Fred dies unexpectedly, nobody can tell why. But then George finds that his twin kept a journal; containing secrets that will haunt him forever…
1. Now That We're Apart

**When Fred dies unexpectedly, nobody knows why. But then George finds that his twin kept a journal; containing secrets that will haunt him forever...**

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter One: "Now that we're apart"**

George looked down at the papers he held in his hand and smoothed them out in front of him on the stand before looking out at the audience of people looking at him expectantly. He felt nothing. No fear, no sadness, nothing. Just emptiness. Clearing his throat he spoke in a loud clear voice.

"Fred was my brother and best friend," he began, his voice steady and strong, "but he wanted no part of this world, magical or mortal." He stopped and surveyed his audience. A few people sniffled, one person in the third row was shaking uncontrollably but most people were silent. Nobody could believe the reason they were here today. It had happened so suddenly. So unexpectedly. Taking a deep breath, George started again.

"I ask all of you, did you have any clue? Did he give any sign? I was his brother and I had my suspicions but never did I dream he would-" his voice cracked and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he could spoke no louder than a whisper, "How could he?"

When he found he could no longer continue he was escorted gently away from the stand and he walked shakily back to his seat, defiantly ignoring the eyes of the people watching him so closely, as though waiting for any sign that he may try the same tactics as his twin.

When the ceremony had finished, and his mother, father and older brother Charlie had all spoken they all gathered back at the Weasley family home that had become so empty since most of the children had moved out. He had been living with Fred in the apartment above their newly established business in Hogsmeade. Ron had finished at Hogwarts and was now living with his girlfriend, Hermione, in Surrey and Ginny was in her last year of school. The rickety old house had been quite empty for a long, long time and now it was full of people. George almost felt a sense of contentment at seeing his old home so full of people and full of the bustling life he used to enjoy when he, too, lived here. The only problem being the reason for this sudden activity and movement inside 'The Burrow'.

George sat by himself during the small reception. Due to respect for his demised twin, rarely did people talk to him and he liked it that way. He didn't really like being the brooding kid in the corner but for once, the usually outgoing twin felt nothing like looking on the brighter side of life.

"George?" George turned his head away from his thoughts and looked up at the sound of his name being uttered. He tried to smile at the girl but upon being unsuccessful in this feat, merely nodded. The girl sat down next to him and cradled the glass of lemonade she was holding between two hands, watching it carefully.

"Did you have any idea of what he was planning?" the girl whispered, her voice thick with shed tears.

George shook his head, "did you?"

The glass in the girl's hand began to tremble as she started shaking all over. Shaking her head slightly, a tear cascaded down her cheek and she closed her eyes tight, leaning into George as he put his arm around her.

"Do you think it was my fault?" she asked him softly, speaking into his jacket where she was being held.

George shook his head, "why would you think that?" he asked her in surprise, easing her away from himself gently.

The girl shook her head, eyes still closed, "I don't know," she said, her voice still soft, "I'm just trying to think of why he would...do that," she finished lamely, her voice shaking.

George held her tighter, "I want to know why he did it too," he told her gently, "but I don't think it's anyone's fault. Especially yours," he told her with a small squeeze.

She smiled at him and went back to examining her glass of lemonade when someone said her voice, too.

"Angelina? Someone was looking for you earlier." Ginny told the girl. Angelina nodded and stood up.

"Who was it, Gin?" she asked the small, red-headed girl before her.

Ginny pointed towards the other side of the living room where a girl with light brown hair was talking to a boy with jet black hair and emerald coloured eyes, "Katie," she told Angelina who nodded and went off in search of her friend.

Once Angelina had left Ginny looked uncomfortably at George who smiled back at his younger sister to let her know she didn't have to be worried about what to say to him. Ginny smiled back.

"Will you move back here for a while?" she asked her older brother, sitting in the seat Angelina had just vacated.

George thought for a moment. He had been staying at The Burrow for the past week while they made arrangements for the funeral but he hadn't really thought of what he was going to do long-term. He shook his head, "I don't know, Gin."

Ginny nodded, not wanting to press the matter. As much as she hated the fact that she would never see her older brother again, she couldn't help feeling a little happy with the way her whole family was together again. Even if it was minus one of her favourite family members, her brother Charlie was back from Romania, Bill was taking a month off from work to stay with his parents and even Ron and Percy were going to be at the house frequently. She, herself, was going to stay with her family for a few more weeks yet, before going back to school. Since George looked a little distant she murmured her excuses before heading back to the kitchen to grab another pastry to eat.

George watched her go. He hadn't thought about where he would stay. At least their shop was up and running and rarely required their help anymore so he wouldn't me missed for a while. He smiled grimly at the way he still thought of the shop as 'theirs'. Well, it was. They had opened it together; they had invented all the products available for sale and it would continue to be 'theirs' for the rest of the other twin's life.

Getting up from the chair he was sitting on, George walked over to where his mother was sitting, chatting absentmindedly to Mrs Wilks, a neighbour.

"Mum?" he said, trying to get her attention. She looked up from her conversation, her eyes rimmed with red, the bags under her eyes prominently displaying lack of sleep over many nights. She smiled when she saw her son.

"What is it, George dear?" she asked him, grasping his hand with her own.

"Um, I'm gonna go back home," he told her with difficulty as he watched her disappointment grow, crossing her features quickly.

"But, George, I-" she started but he cut her off.

"I'm gonna get some stuff and then come back," he told her and she smiled once more, nodding and letting go of his hand.

Walking through the living room full of people milling around, chatting to each other, reminiscing and remembering he slipped into the kitchen and took a flowerpot off the mantelpiece before stepping before the fireplace. Throwing a handful of the glittery powder from the flowerpot into the fireplace he hesitated before stepping in. He hadn't been back to the store since...well since he was needed at home. Regaining some of his courage he stepped into the flickering fire and said quietly and audibly, "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."


	2. Guilty Emptiness

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Two: _"Guilty emptiness"_**

George stepped out of the fireplace and stood still as his eyes adjusted to the dark. The room was momentarily lit by the green flickering fire he had just stepped out of but it soon died down and the room was thrown into darkness once more. Pulling out his wand he gave it a flick and muttered under his breath. The room was thrown into brilliant light as all the lamps in the room burst alight. George sighed as he wandered the familiar path to the back of the store where a staircase led to his own home, until recently, shared with his twin.

Heart beating quickly and loudly against his ribs, he got to the top of the stairs and pushed open the door. Shaking himself mentally, George muttered the same spell as the one he had used downstairs and every candle in the room burst into flame, a small flame flickering at the end of each wick, lighting the room. George surveyed the room, not entirely sure where to begin. Finally he chose an area of the room and began to wave his wand lazily, directing different objects into a suitcase that he had pulled out from under his bed.

Clothes, towels, shoes, different books and even some of the supplies he and Fred had had lying around the small apartment, leftovers from some of the products they had invented and successfully marketed, flew into the suitcase, packing themselves down neatly. When George could think of no more things he would need, he picked up the suitcase and headed towards the top of the stairs when something stopped him. Without thinking, he dropped the suitcase next to him on the floor then turned in the opposite direction from which he had just come. Coming to a door, he reached down to turn the silver handle shaped like a firework. The symbol of their trade. As the door creaked open, an image flashed into his mind, horrible and twisted. He gasped and shook his head to clear the picture still vividly shocking in his memory. Mentally shaking himself, George walked further into his twin brother's room, marvelling slightly at the way he managed to keep it so unbelievably messy. The last time he had been in this room was exactly a week ago when he had entered the room to see why Fred was still sleeping. Keeping this disturbing memory in mind he began to wander about the room, picking things up and turning them over before placing them back where he found them, making sure they were exactly the way he had found them.

His throat was unusually tight as he ambled around the room that used to belong to his twin, handling the objects that belonged to him, the simple things he never went without. Even his wand was still in there as nobody had felt it right to take it with them. George had assumed that it would eventually go to Angelina but it had taken a lot of persuading and special favours from the Ministry of Magic to stop it being destroyed entirely first.

George looked at his watch and noticed the time was a lot later than he had thought. He had spent over an hour in his brother's room and he was supposed to only make it a quick trip. Any longer and his mother would probably send a search party out to look for him, he thought to himself with a grim smile. Reaching down under the bed he groped around until he found what he was looking for. He knew his brother kept a shoebox underneath his bed full only of the things he felt close to him. George wanted to take it with him, not intending to open it but merely to have it with him. He knew Fred wouldn't mind. He always knew what Fred was thinking; he had done so since they were born. Then again, George thought, his stomach churning unpleasantly, he hadn't known what his brother had been thinking to make him feel that life wasn't worth living anymore. Ignoring the feeling of guilt for not picking up on what his twin had been planning he found the shoebox and pulled it out gingerly. George had the sudden feeling to open it up and see if it contained anything that might prove a reason for Fred's sudden parting but he denied this sentiment and merely held onto the closed box as he stepped out of the room and closed the door softly behind him. George made his way back to where he had left his suitcase at the top of the staircase and bent down to pick it up, struggling to keep the shoebox underneath his arm. Sighing, he looked around at his apartment before pulling out his wand with his available hand and muttered "_nox_" and all the lights in the rooms went out.

Descending the stairs George was a little alarmed at how calm he felt. His best friend had died and he was never going to see him again and he felt...nothing. With this feeling of guilt he wandered back into the shop and stepped into the fireplace, extinguishing the lights in the shop as well. Throwing a handful of the same glittery powder into the fireplace underneath him from a small box next to him he said as clearly as he could, "The Burrow." And he was gone in a whirling of green flame.

A/N: So, that was the second chapter. Does anyone like it so far? I'm sorry the story hasn't been very informative so far but that WILL change in chapters to come. PLEASE review because I love getting reviews and they motivate me to write more chapters. Also, if anyone knows the proper spells for making lights turn on and off or if you can make some up that sound good, do tell me!


	3. A Disturbing Discovery

Oops, forgot to put a disclaimer. Well, I think everyone would know by now that JK Rowling owns all these characters (NOT those idiots making the movies), I merely make them do whatever I want.

Secrets Unknown 

**Chapter Three: _"A disturbing discovery"_**

When George arrived back at The Burrow most people had already gone home. There was generally less activity in the living room as those who were not staying the night had left and those who were staying the night were setting up beds with sheets, pillows in various rooms. George had not been the only one to stay the week at his parents' house. Ron, so adamant in the way he had moved out in the first place 'wanting his own space' had been one of the first to move back home and even Hermione had been staying there the last couple of nights. Angelina had declined the offer to stay and gone home with her friend, Katie Bell. Percy had decided to stay a couple of nights at least and Charlie and Bill had been staying the past week with George. Lee Jordan had already left when George had arrived back home too, but this was no surprise to the boy. Lee had been he and Fred's best friend but the past week he had been almost ignoring George. Angelina assured him that Lee was probably unsure of what to say to him and this contented him for a while but now he was getting slightly worried at his friend's distant behaviour.

Now George was back in the small room he used to share with Fred and he was using his time alone to unpack and set up the things he had brought with him from their small apartment in Hogsmeade. He had placed the shoebox of Fred's on the bed he used to sleep in and defied looking at it as he unpacked. Finally, however, he had no more to unpack and he sat down on his bed, pulling his feet up off the floor and hugging his knees with his arms. He looked at the box, knowing that it could contain something, _anything_, that could explain why Fred did it.

Staring at the battered shoebox only made him want to open it more so he got off his bed and walked out of the room. In the hall he ran into Percy who muttered his apology then excused himself. George thought nothing of Percy's strange behaviour; nobody was really sure what Percy's true feelings were. After the war, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, had disappeared and the Ministry had temporarily shut down before Dumbledore decided to step in temporarily. All the people working there who had been following Fudge's example of ignoring the claims that You-Know-Who had returned from the supposed 'dead' either lost their jobs or disappeared entirely and Percy lost his respect for Fudge. Now, almost three years later, Percy had started to reform the bond between himself and his family. It was clear that he had no desire to betray them again and he had expressed his concern and shed his tears at the demise of his younger brother but he had been the one to say that the 'Fred and George' route was an extremely unwise route to take.

After watching his older brother disappearing through the nearest door, George decided to find someone normal to talk to. His youngest brother, Ron, had always been one to follow the example he and Fred had set and although they never declined the chance to tease their little brother, the mere fact that he not only accepted George and Fred but respected them always made the twins sure to look out for Ron whenever they possibly could. When George finally arrived at the door adorning a wooden sign entitled 'Ronald's Room' after ascending three flights of stairs he knocked gently on the door only to find it swing open under his touch. Wandering in he could see that the curtains had been drawn and no kind of light was being used to illuminate the room and it's inhabitants. George could hear someone talking gently and softly in the depths of the dark room but that stopped when he had pushed the door open. From the light streaming in from the hallway he would see a lump on the bed in the corner that he assumed was his brother and Hermione. As he pushed the door open further the rectangle of light illuminated the two enough so that he could see Ron lying on his side, back to the doorway and Hermione sitting on the other side of him, stroking his hair and talking softly. Hermione looked up and smiled at George and he was once again thankful that she was one of the few who still treated him relatively normally, and not as though he was going to break down in tears any moment.

Hermione leant down and whispered something to Ron and George watched as his little brother nodded and then sat up. Hermione kissed the top of his head before standing up and heading towards the door where she stopped, put her hand on George's arm and smiled at him before leaving the room entirely. Ron looked at George expectantly and George tried to smile but found he couldn't. The guilt of feeling nothing was clawing at his heart and seeing Ron wiping tears off his cheeks only made him angry at that fact that he had not shed any himself yet. Shrugging off this feeling he pointed his wand at the nearest candle and lit it before sitting down on the chair at Ron's desk, turning to face his brother.

"You're lucky," George told his little brother finally, "to have someone like that." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door where Hermione had just exited.

Ron nodded, "Don't I know it? Took me long enough to realise it," he said with a small smile that did not, in any way, match the sadness still evident in his eyes.

George nodded at his brother but said nothing more. Wanting more than anything to have a normal conversation with someone, it angered him slightly to find Ron so upset. This, of course, made him feel even more guilty and tried in vain to concentrate on what Ron was saying.

"...back at Hogsmeade?" Ron was finishing his question just as George tried to turn his focus back to his brother.

"What?" George asked Ron stupidly. Ron gave his brother the shadow of a strange look before repeating his question.

"I asked you was it strange being back at Hogsmeade?" Ron repeated a little more clearly.

"Oh," George shrugged, "a little. The shop is still running, at least," he smiled cheekily at his little brother, "why you won't let us give you a job there is beyond us-" he stopped for a moment before correcting himself, "beyond me," he finished.

Ron looked at his brother pityingly. No more than nineteen, George had just experienced something that nobody saw coming and Ron knew George felt it the most. George caught Ron looking at him with sympathy on his face and he turned away from the boy in disgust.

"I don't need your pity, Ron," George said sharply and Ron's ears began to heat up. Only seventeen and naturally oblivious to shifts in moods, Ron had no idea how to act around George at the best of times. Now, considering the circumstances, acting the right way around his older brother seemed close to impossible.

"I- I'm sorry," Ron tried to apologise but George glared at him.

"I came up here for a nice normal conversation which nobody in this house seems capable of at the moment," he said angrily, getting out of the chair and making his way towards the door.

"George..." Ron seemed at a loss for words. George felt a momentary pang of guilt for the way he was acting but shrugged it off and pulled the door open. Hermione was just coming back into the room as he did this and she jumped back and gasped as the door was wrenched out from under her grasp.

"Sorry, Mione," George grunted as he stepped around her into the hall.

"George," Hermione said softly and he almost turned around before ignoring her and kept on walking.

"You can't keep going like this, George!" she exclaimed desperately. George stopped walking and whirled around, eyes flashing.

"Like what?" he growled, the anger in his voice rising.

Hermione looked at him, tears streaming down her face as she searched frantically for something to say or do that could make George see sense. Finally George merely sneered at her and turned around, half expecting her to call him back but when he heard nothing at all he quickened his pace and continued back to his room.

Slamming the door behind him, George leaned heavily against the shuddering wooden door and waited for the tears to come. When none did he heaved himself away from the door and strode directly toward the bed Fred use to occupy. Sitting down on the bed he pulled the shoebox towards him and without another though he had pulled off the lid and thrown it aside.

"Okay, Fred," George muttered angrily, "this joke has lasted long enough. Why the fuck did you do what you did?"

Sifting through various objects, George found some old photographs of when he and Fred were growing up, a few letters he had received from Angelina, ranging from lengthy letters from when they left Hogwarts three years ago to simple ones he had been sent when she was away in France on holiday about nine months before. He also found a few random objects that George could not see any real sentimental value in such as old Christmas cards, his first Hogwarts letter and a couple of twigs that George assumed were from his old broomstick. Cursing silently to himself, George extracted every single object from the old shoebox before realising it was useless; nothing in the box was going to give George any information about his twin. Lifting the box to his lap to find that it did not lift quite as easily as a shoebox with nothing in it should. Shaking the box slightly he could both feel and hear something rattling around in it still, despite that illusion that it was empty. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he pointed it inside the depths of the shoebox and whispered, _"Revealius"_

The box gave a slight lurch and when George looked inside the box again a small black book appeared. Hands shaking, George placed his hand inside the box and lifted the book from its battered surroundings. Opening the book, a fearful feeling in the pit of his stomach, George's eyes were met with a sight he would never forget. On the page he had opened to his eyes were drawn to the first sentences scribbled there in Fred's untidy handwriting, so much like George's own.

The thoughts that are running through my head cannot possibly be normal. I am becoming so different to the person I used to be. The secrets I kept hidden are so vast and so disturbing that they kill me more every day. It won't be long now.


	4. Never Even Noticed

Secrets Unknown 

**Chapter Four: _"Never Even Noticed..."_**

George shut the diary with a snap and breathed heavily, trying to absorbed the information he had just read. That particular entry had been dated the 9th of March, which was almost an entire year before. Fred had been struggling with this for almost a whole year at least and nobody had known about it. George closed his eyes and held the diary tightly between two hands. How could he not have known? He asked himself frantically. As he was thinking this he heard footsteps coming closer to his closed bedroom door. Quickly shoving the photographs and letters back into the shoebox he hesitated before throwing the diary back inside also. There was a knock at the door as he was stowing the shoebox underneath Fred's bed and George crossed to the other side of the room to answer it. It was Bill.

Bill stepped into the room and clapped George on the back. "Dinner time, little bro," he told George as he looked around the room in slight admiration, "wow, it's actually tidy," he marvelled before looking back to George.

"I'm not hungry," George told Bill, remembering the small explosion he had exhibited earlier and not feeling like facing the family.

Bill cocked his head, ponytail swinging as he did so, "you want me to bring you some food up?" he asked George.

George prepared himself to automatically respond with a 'no' but his stomach growled and he nodded, "thanks."

Bill looked as though he was about to say something but then he closed his mouth and clapped George on the back once more before turning around and exiting through the open door. George hadn't eaten in a while and he was actually very hungry. The smell of his mothers roast pork was wafting up the stairs making George want to run down the stairs, knock everyone out of the way and eat whatever he could find. But even thinking about running made him feel exhausted. He and Fred had always had the most energy of everyone in the family put together. Quidditch made them athletic but they each had a natural burst of energy that nothing could ever seem to subdue. Now, however, even the slightest walking up and down stairs made him feel like he could curl up and go to sleep. Not that he had slept much in the last week, George thought to himself bitterly as he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.

About ten minutes later there was another knock at the door. George, feeling too exhausted even to open his eyes, merely said, "Come in."

The door creaked open and Hermione came in nervously, juggling a plate of food with one hand and some silverware in the other.

"Bill asked me to bring this up to you," she said quietly, setting the plate down on the bedside table next to George. George sighed. He knew he shouldn't have been so short with her before and he opened his eyes and sat up.

"Hermione," he called to her as she started towards the door. She turned around cautiously, half expecting him to blow up at her like he did earlier.

He sighed again, "I'm really sorry," he said apologetically, "I didn't mean to get so fiery."

Hermione smiled, "it's okay, George," she told him. Looking at him scrutinisingly she continued, "Everybody feels like you do, George," she said softly. Seeing him about to argue she continued a little louder to drown out any objections he was trying to voice, "you may be feeling the worst, I know a twin bond is very strong. But we all miss Fred," she finished, her voice cracking a little.

George had the grace to feel a little sheepish and he nodded, "I know," he said heavily. "It's just that..." he stopped, unsure of how to continue and Hermione looked at him, sorrow in her eyes.

"I'm not really sure how to..." George tried to continue unsuccessfully but Hermione understood.

"I know," she said gently, her lower lip trembling dangerously. Closing her eyes for a moment, she regained her composure before opening them again. Smiling, she was about to leave when she pulled a vial out of her pocket and turned back around to face George once again.

"Here," she said, holding out the small glass bottle for George to take. He accepted it from her, confused as to what it was.

"Put a drop into whatever you drink before you go to bed," she advised him, turning back toward the door once again. Before she exited she turned around one more time, "it will help you sleep." Shutting the door behind her with a soft click, Hermione went back down to the kitchen, her footsteps fading as she neared the bottom of the stairs. George stared at the vial he now held in his hand and sighed as he placed it next to the plate Hermione had just brought him.

Sleep. He had almost learned to live without it.

Now that he was alone once again his thoughts wandered back to his twin's diary. This was the answer to the question everyone had been asking every minute of their life for over a week. And now that George had this answer in his grasp he was unsure of whether or not he really wanted his questions answered after all.

Pushing himself off his bed he reached under the bed next to his, pulling the shoebox out of it's hiding place. Pulling off the lid he was relieved to see that the diary had not hidden itself once again but was sitting on the top of a photograph of himself, Fred, and Lee Jordan outside their shop. A huge banner was strung up over the door proclaiming the words 'Now Open'. George almost smiled as he remembered the day their joke shop was officially up and running. Lifting the diary off the photograph he closed the lid and took the diary over to his own bed where he sat down and stared at the cover, not wanting to open it yet wanting to know the secrets it held. Holding his breath, George opened the diary's cover and read what was written on the inside of the front cover. Sighing, George closed the small book, the words still fresh in his mind. Since the initial shock of reading what his twin had been writing about for over a year, George was not as surprised to read what was written in the front cover.

I see that you have found my diary, George. Well done. I know it is you reading it because I put a charm on the book to make sure nobody but you could read it. Well, brother, you are about to enter a very dangerous and scary place. My mind. I know you thought I was like you. I was for most of my life. But then I changed. I am sorry for any grief caused but it was something I had to do. I don't want you to read on, George. You were my brother, my twin, the best friend I ever had and your eyes do not deserve to see what you are about to see. But I knew you better than you thought you knew me and I know that nothing will stop you doing what you want. Make sure everyone knows they had nothing to do with it. You know what I mean.

_Yours faithfully,_

Your favourite brother, Fred.

Sighing, George opened the diary again, settling on the first page. His stomach felt as though it were tied in a huge knot and his heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest entirely. But this was the only way he was ever going to know the truth. The date at the top of the page declared the entry to be written on the 21st of December 2003. Two years before.

"Oh, God," George whispered to himself as he began to read.

_21st December 2003_

What I thought was a simple 'down' has turned out to be so much more. I can't explain what I am feeling at the moment only that I have rarely felt this way before. I know I shouldn't be feeling like this; my life is great. Our store is up and running and the money we are bringing in is an astounding amount. I live with my brother, though. I have always done everything with him. I am not Fred. I am Fred and George. We are a package deal, we are. And I begin to think, "What will happen when we begin to grow older and need to separate. Will we be able to? Or will we be stuck together for the rest of our lives because we don't know it any other way?"

What will happen when it comes time for one of us to move on? I will marry Angelina one day. I must. I love her with all my heart even though that doesn't seem to be enough at the moment. My heart does not seem to be a great enough offer, as it barely feels my own. My mind and my heart are my most important features. They are the most important features of everyone, magic or muggle. But lately it feels as though I cannot use them, I cannot wield them my own way. What will happen when my very own mind and heart gives up on me and leaves me for dead? I cannot believe we only left Hogwarts last year. I must have grown up in that time because I feel so much older. I feel so much more mature. And most of the time I can feel myself ageing years ahead of my very own brother. Soon I will be so old that I will die of natural causes and George will still be so young. Young and naïve. Naivety will keep him safe. It will keep everyone safe. It even kept me safe for a while.

George stared at what he had just read, unable to go on. Shutting the diary with as much force as he could he ran out of the room and into the nearest bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Since he had not eaten anything in days there was not much to throw up but he seemed to keep heaving no matter what came up. Soon he was sitting next to the toilet bowl, shaking almost uncontrollably. How could his very own twin feel that way without George even realising it? He vaguely wondered if Angelina had had any kind of idea about what Fred was constantly thinking. He doubted it.

... I am not Fred. I am Fred and George. We are a package deal, we are. And I begin to think, "What will happen when we begin to grow older and need to separate....

George found himself sinking further and further to the floor as all his energy escaped him. Soon he was lying flat on the tiled floor, unable to move as darkness swirled around him, engulfing his senses until he felt nothing.

He did not hear Mrs Weasley come upstairs to see who was so ill. He did not hear the door open or his mother scream when she found him. He did not feel himself being carried by Bill into his bedroom where he was placed on his bed. And he did not see Ginny pick up the diary from underneath him and try and open it to no avail.


	5. Losing Both Of You

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Five: _"Losing both of you"_**

George awoke from a dreamless sleep in his own bed, light streaming in through the gaps in his curtains. He groaned and turned away from the light, facing Fred's bed in the process. His stomach gave a lurch as he realised there was someone sleeping in it, their form under the covers small but distinguishable as a human being and not a pile of clothes. George sat up and his head span. He put a hand to his forehead to steady himself and swung his whole body around, his feet landing lightly on the floor. As soon as he was sure he wasn't going to fall over once standing, he stood up and walked over to his twin's bed. He could see immediately who it was from the jet-black hair that was covering not only the person's face but the entire pillow as well.

"Angelina?" George said her name softly and she rolled over immediately and looked up at him.

"You're awake," she remarked as she sat up, arranging her hair into a more acceptable fashion.

"So are you," George pointed out as he went back to his own bed and sat down, pulling his feet under the covers to warm them after the chill of the bare floorboards.

Angelina nodded, "I've been awake for a while. Your mother was worried about you," she told George, watching him closely.

George wracked his brain for any memories of the previous night but none came to mind, "why?" he asked Angelina in puzzlement.

Angelina yawned and pulled her covers up to her chin, "she found you passed out in the bathroom last night," she said, looking at him strangely as though worried why he couldn't remember this.

George groaned. All he could remember was throwing up a lot then passing out from sheer exhaustion.

"My throat hurts," he remarked, massaging his Adams apple tenderly.

"I'm not surprised," Angelina told him as she swung her feet over the side of the bed and padding softly over to where a suitcase full of clothes was sitting on the other side of the room. As she started to pull off her shirt George averted his eyes.

"Whoa," he muttered as he looked determinedly at the wall.

Angelina pulled on another shirt and turned around apologetically, "I'm sorry," she said guiltily. She was quiet for a moment before speaking again, "I guess I'm just used to changing in front of Fred," she said softly, her cheeks flushing a little.

George nodded, "it's okay," he told her, "don't worry about it." The silence in the room was deafening before George thought of something to say. "Uh," he started, "why are you here?"

"What?" Angelina asked him, mind obviously somewhere else. "Oh!" she said as she realised what George had just asked her. "Hermione phoned from your dad's old telephone and said that you'd been found indisposed in the bathroom so I offered to come back and stay with you."

George nodded, "oh, okay then," he said after a moment. He turned away from Angelina once again as she continued to dress then got out of bed himself. Looking down he noticed for the first time that he was wearing his pyjamas. "Um..." he started.

Angelina looked up from the belt she was buckling, "what?" she asked him.

"How did I...I mean, I swear I wasn't...where are my clothes?" he asked finally as Angelina quirked her eyebrow.

"Over there," she said, pointing to where they hung over the back of the desk chair.

"How did I end up in my pyjamas?" he asked her suspiciously.

"It's not like you don't have anything I haven't seen before," Angelina answered nonchalantly, rummaging around in her suitcase for a pair of shoes.

"You undressed me?" George began incredulously and Angelina shook her head.

"You were like that when I got here. Sorry to disappoint you," she said with a small smile and George could see she was desperately trying to make jokes about their current situation to cover up her true feelings at that moment.

"I guess I wouldn't have anything you hadn't seen before," George murmured and Angelina looked up at him, eyes filling up with tears.

"No," she agreed softly, turning back to her suitcase and zipping it up, "I guess you wouldn't. Heading towards the door she turned back to George, "come down to breakfast. You need to eat something."

George nodded and followed her to the door, closing it behind her and turning back towards where his clothes lay.

When he emerged into the kitchen five minutes later his mother enveloped him in a hug so vicious that it nearly broke some valuable bones.

"I thought you had..." his mother sobbed into his shoulder as he comforted her awkwardly.

"I'm okay, mum," he told her, trying to ignore the looks he was getting from everybody else at the table.

Mrs Weasley finally let her son out of the back-breaking hug but held him firmly by the shoulder at arms length. "I couldn't take losing both of you, you hear me?" she hissed, tears streaming down her face. George nodded numbly as his mother let him go and he sat down at the table next to Ginny who busied herself with her porridge.

George looked around at everyone then down at the plate his mother had just put in front of him, fuming silently over everybody's stupid reactions. Valiantly restraining himself from screaming at them all, he merely attacked his meal with a very large bite which he only just managed to get down.

Everyone was a little subdued over breakfast. George couldn't tell whether it was because it looked like he had killed himself in the bathroom or if it was still due to Fred's death but he had a feeling it didn't have too much to do with the latter.

After breakfast George excused himself from the table and headed back upstairs. Realising that he had nothing to do but sit on his bed and think about what he had read in Fred's journal the night before he decided to have a shower and forget about the diary for the time being. George made his way into the small bathroom on the same floor as his bedroom, grabbing a towel from the linen closet on the way. Locking the door behind him, George pulled off his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor, puddling around his feet. Kicking the clothes out of the way George stood in front of the full-length mirror, completely naked and looked himself over. Although at first glance he and his brother were completely identical, George had always seen the differences, as had his family and friends. George squinted and stared at his reflection, willing himself to look exactly like his brother. George grinned widely to resemble the happy-go-lucky person he thought Fred was but the smile was forced and extremely false. Sighing, George climbed into the shower and turned on the water, letting arm water cascade all over his body. He tried not to think about the diary but the more he tried not to think about it, the more he wanted to lock his door and read the entire, disturbing thing.

_I see that you have found my diary, George._ It had said. It targeted him directly, willing him to read about his brother's mind, teasing him until he succumbed to it.

George let himself get lost in his thoughts as the water ran over his skin, engulfing his senses in the warmth, allowing him to be more relaxed than he had been in days. George closed his eyes and smiled slightly at the feeling of warmth but opened them suddenly when he heard someone knocking on the door.

"Other people want a shower too!" came his sisters irritated voice from behind the door.

"In a minute!" George yelled back, annoyed that his concentration had been broken. With a sigh, he turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, searching for a towel. Rubbing himself down briefly to get all the water droplets off his slick body George then wrapped the towel around himself and opened the door, grabbing his clothes on the way out.

"Thankyou," Ginny said impatiently, pushing past her brother into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

George smiled slightly to himself. At least Ginny was acting the same as she always had. He wandered back to his room; towel still wrapped around his lower half. Opening his bedroom door he closed it carefully behind him, 'accidentally' shooting the bolt across so that if someone wanted to come in, he would hear then trying to door first. George quickly dressed then pulled the shoebox out from under his twin's bed only to find the diary gone. Panicking slightly, George looked around the room for it and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it perched on his desk. Heart thumping, he crossed the room and grabbed the diary before settling himself on his bed. Closing his eyes briefly, George worked up the courage to open the book, so small yet so full of undesirable secrets. George opened the diary and turned to the third page where he was before. Taking a deep breath, George began to read.

**The chapters are short, I know, but I don't want them too be too lengthy so that I can fit many chapters in instead of just a couple. The diary entries haven't really started yet but they will soon and they will be quite troubling considering the original nature of the Weasley twins everyone loves so much. Please review! I won't update unless I get reviews so tell your friends, tell your family, tell your goldfish, I want reviews!!!**


	6. Cheering Up

** Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Six: _"Cheering Up"_**

_ 29th of December 2003_

_Over a whole week has gone by without me writing in this journal. George and I went home for Christmas and if anyone saw me writing in a journal there they would become suspicious. George especially considering we were sharing a room. I almost went mad without writing these thoughts down and I am glad to be back in my own room, being able to write whatever I want._

_I thought that seeing my family again, happy and together, would make me come out of this slump I have fallen into. But it only made things worse. Seeing them so happy only made me see that I am no longer like them. I cannot be part of their group anymore because I am so different._

_All those years at school with people telling us how brilliant we were because of the things we invented or how funny we were because of the destruction we had caused. And what did it come to?_

George turned the page and shuddered as he saw yet another page of Fred's handwriting spilling all the secrets that George wished he didn't know and yet could not stop reading.

_Nothing, that's what it came to. And here we are, three years out of school and working in a joke shop. It's so pathetic. There are people in our store everyday, buying our useless junk to try on one of their friends or to get out of class and on days when Hogwarts students are allowed out into Hogsmeade, even people I know come into the store and purchase this stuff and I want to scream at them all to stop acting to childishly. But I cannot. And that is why I write in a journal that no one will ever read._

George could not believe what he was reading. The joke shop had been Fred's idea and here he was rubbishing it and saying how immature it was. Feeling a small surge of anger at his departed twin he turned to the next entry. Dated the first day of the previous year.

_ 1st January 2004_

_Great, it's a new year and the things that seemed so wrong last year feel even worse this year. I saw Hermione at the New Years Eve party and she told me about some muggle tradition of new years resolutions. My new years resolutions are to stop being so weak and go ahead with what I want to do. I am so weak for being scared of the pain. So pathetic. That's what I am. I am pathetic. I am barely even a human being any more._

_Angelina came over today. She said she had something important to tell me. She told me she is moving closer to Hogsmeade so I can see her more. I am happy about that. I truly am but then I think about what could happen when she sees me so...bizarre. Last time I slept with her she asked me how I got the cut on my arm. I told her I hurt it on one of our tools and she seemed to accept it. It scarred nicely._

George blanched when he read the entry from the 1st of January. He knew that some people hurt themselves but he never dreamed his own best friend would do something like that. George had never fully quite understood that concept. When he hurt himself, he did whatever he could do make it heal. And the Fred he thought he knew, used to whinge like a child whenever he stubbed his toe.

Reading this journal began to seem so surreal. George knew, of course, that he was reading his twin's most secret thoughts. And yet, to him, it seemed merely that he was reading a fictional book about a troubled boy. This was, perhaps, the only thing stopping George from going mad entirely.

George sat in his room for two hours, reading random entries from his brother's diary. Some were troubling like the one from the first of January but then there were ones simply describing his day that made George realise with a huge burst of relief that his brother had not totally lost it. Just as he was approaching March, someone tried the door and upon finding it locked, knocked gently.

"George?" Angelina's voice came from the other side of the door.

George shut the diary and put it underneath the covers of his bed before crossing to the door and opening it to let Angelina in.

"Sorry," she said, flustered at the thought she had to interrupt George in his own bedroom, "I just had to get my purse." Grabbing a black bag from off the floor where her suitcase sat, contents spilling out of it, she turned around again and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" George asked her and she whirled around.

"Out," she told him miserably.

"And you're unhappy about this?" George asked her as she checked inside her purse for something.

"Well," Angelina stopped rushing and sat down on the bed, "Katie and Alicia are taking me out for lunch and a bit of shopping. To cheer me up, I suppose," she said wearily.

"And you don't want to be cheered up?" George enquired.

"I don't think I really can be," Angelina admitted.

A moment passed when nothing was said between the two before Angelina got t her feet once again.

"Well, I should probably go. They'll be waiting for me." Angelina opened the door before looking back, "do you want to come?" she asked George who shook his head.

"Girl's day out? I'll pass, thanks," he said with a slight smile, which Angelina tried to return. When her smiled wavered she sighed.

"This day better cheer me up," she said sadly as she disappeared out of the door.

George watched her leave from the window then sat back down on his bed.

"Cheering up," he muttered under his breath. Pulling the journal out from under the covers he stared at it before leaning over and putting back in the box under Fred's old bed, "yeah right."

**Short and sweet eh? Sorry it was pretty crap but at least there was some more diary entries and a bit more Angelina although there will be more in the next chapter I promise! REVIEW!!!!**

**A HUGE thankyou to**** DracoM'sGrl, ignorencereekstruth, insertgoodnamehere (LOVE your name haha!), Yokai Cesia and Chi, angelface04, padfootlives101 and Short2ndbase613 for being my reviewers. You make my day :)   
**


	7. Share My Pain

** Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Seven: _"Share My Pain"_**

Later that night George found himself wandering through his store, picking up random jokes that were heavily marketed throughout the adolescent wizarding world. Jokes to get back at friends, jokes to get back at enemies, things to help you get out of class, the store was littered with these sorts of things. Soon he had reached the workroom in the back that he and Fred had spent hours upon hours in, inventing new jokes and improving others. As he reached for one of the unfinished experiments, he searched his brain for any ideas of how it could be finished. The twins were well known for their brilliant flow of unlimited ideas but tonight George found that he had none. In fact, the more he thought about it, the blanker his mind seemed to become.

"I have to finish it," George muttered to himself.

As he held the half finished experiment in his hand it slowly began to disappear. When he looked at it, he found it had gone entirely.

"No," George murmured.

Looking around the workroom he watched as all the unfinished experiments disappeared before his eyes.

"No," George murmured once again, reaching for the vanishing projects.

"Don't worry," a voice filtered through his dream, soothing and strangely familiar.

A hand brushed against George's cheek, warm and inviting.

"What?" he asked nobody in particular.

A slender finger stroked his cheek and George lifted his hand to touch the hand warm on his cheek. Thinking he was still in his dream, George smiled at the touch and leaned towards it, inviting it, loving every moment of it. Realising what he was doing, George opened his eyes and dazedly looked for the person causing him such an experience. As his eyes adjusted to the dark room he realised he was staring up into a pair of very dark eyes.

"Angeli-" George was silenced by a single finger being laid to his lips that was then replaced by Angelina's own mouth.

George, still groggy with sleep, kissed her back until he realised what he was doing. Butterflies grew in his stomach as he ran his hand through her dark curls and pulled away from her kisses. Pushing her away gently, he smiled sadly.

"You don't want to do this," he told her.

Angelina smiled coyly through the darkness, "how do you know what I want?" she leaned back towards George but he held her away.

"Angelina," he said awkwardly. Angelina stopped, a look of pure horror crossed her face and she turned her head away, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled her apology as she to climb off where George lay, still slightly dazed.

He touched her arm softly and she stopped and looked back at him, eyes glittering dangerously, punctuated by the moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered again, tears spilling from her eyes and her voice trembled with every syllable spoken, "I guess I just...I mean..."

George, a lump forming in his own throat, merely nodded and motioned for Angelina to come closer, which she did after hesitating for a moment. George pulled his coverlet back and wrapped his arms around the sobbing girl. Angelina lay down next to him as he scooted over to make room for her.

"How could he?" Angelina demanded angrily, tears running down her cheek and onto George's bare arm. "How could he?" she practically screamed as more tears cascaded from her eyes, which were now squeezed shut as she sobbed into the pillow.

George shut his eyes and shook his head, unable to speak, the lump in his throat getting bigger.

"I loved him," Angelina whispered, her voice surprisingly steady, "and he didn't care."

George shook his head and tried to control the waver in his voice, "he did care about you," he told her, remembering the way he spoke about her in his journal.

_I love her so much. I think I could just watch her for hours and never grow tired. Watching her sleep is breathtaking. It's like I am in a whole different world. But then she wakes up and we are both in reality again. She is the only thing that can make me temporarily escape the hell that has become my life._

Angelina turned to face him, tears still streaming from her eyes and George looked down at her.

"It wasn't enough," she told him, her eyes dark pools of pure pain.

Looking at the anguish that Angelina felt about his brother made him feel like he was choking. Fred had left them both for no reason and now they had to live the rest of their lives without the person that meant the most to them.

George shook his head, "no it wasn't," he agreed as his voice cracked. Angelina was overcome by a fresh wave of emotion and she closed her eyes as she began to cry once again. She rolled over and snuggled deeper into George's grasp.

Angelina cried for a long time that night and for the first time since his twin's death, the numbness he had felt inside him subsided and George cried too.

**Mm, sad eh? Sorry it's short but I felt that this little scene should be in a chapter of it's own. George cried! sob More diary entries in the next chapter, I promise!**


	8. You weren't allowed to know too

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Eight: _"You weren't allowed to know"_**

George and Angelina held each other for a long time, neither of them wanting to let go and face the reality around them. Both of them were content in the comfort they had temporarily found in each other and wanted nothing more than to stay where they were forever. But the bustle of the household had started and people were yelling outside the bedroom door about missing socks and being late for certain agendas and George reluctantly opened his eyes. Light was streaming in through the worn curtains and he was brought violently back to reality when he realised he would have to get up. Not wanting to move because Angelina was still fast asleep, one hand clamped around his wrist, he gently shifted himself backwards away from the sleeping girl but as soon as he shifted his weight, she stirred and opened her eyes.

Angelina was in the very same predicament as George was. No way did she want to get up, go about her business like nothing was wrong. She closed her eyes and remembered the night before. She had gotten back from her outing with Katie and Alicia feeling almost worse than she did before. They chatted about mindless things such as clothes and what they had heard on the Wizarding Wireless trying, Angelina knew, to take her mind off Fred but it didn't work. When she got home she went straight up to the room she was sharing with George and went to sleep only to wake up an hour later, covered in a cold sweat. The nightmare she'd had was cruelly realistic. She had been walking through Hogsmeade with Fred when he had just looked at her suddenly and smiled.

His last words to her before he disappeared were "I have to go now, Angelina. Goodbye." And Angelina had screamed as he just vanished into thin air. She had woken up at that point and, overcome with something she didn't understand, wandered over to George's bed.

As she looked down at him she squinted her eyes to make him look like his twin before climbing on top of him, just wanting to savour the features so much like her own lover's.

"George?" Angelina spoke his name quietly and she felt the arms wrapped around her move as George answered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about last night," she whispered to him, her cheeks flushing slightly at the memory of the way she had acted,

The arms around her squeezed her gently, "don't be." George told her softly.

She rolled towards him and smiled faintly, "you cried," she remarked boldly. She hadn't meant it to be embarrassing to the boy and he knew it.

George nodded, "thank you."

"Any time," Angelina whispered, her smile widening a little. A crash coming from downstairs sounded and they both cringed as the screaming started after it. It wasn't his mother. Mrs Weasley, although prone to yelling about the slightest thing, had become eerily subdued. She seemed to be walking around in a daze and when something happened such as Ron doing something to Ginny to make her jinx him she merely nodded and wandered off. George was worried about his mother. Like Hermione had said _"We all miss Fred."_ And George was feeling that the most but for Mrs Weasley it must have been heart breaking.

Angelina groaned and pulled back the covers, pulling herself into a sitting position before swinging her legs over the side of the mattress and padding softly across to the door.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she told George who nodded and watched her as she closed the door. Once he knew that she had gone, he clamoured out of bed himself and grabbed the shoebox out from underneath his bed where he had placed it to stop Angelina from stumbling across it while she was looking for her shoe or something.

George had begun to become accustomed to reading about the life of his twin that nobody had known about. While he hated reading what life was like for Fred while George was floating around on a cloud of almost perfection, he needed to know what else caused his twin brother to do what he did. He opened the diary to where he knew he had been reading it the previous day and his eyes were drawn directly to his own name somewhere in the middle of the page. Looking back at the date he saw it was dated March 3rd. George began to read from the top, sickly eager to see what had been written about himself.

_3rd March 2004_

_It seems sadly ironic that while some people will do anything to get rid of pain, I have begun to do anything to inflict it on myself. Does that make me a bad person? To think that I don't have to be in pain and yet I sometimes do anything I could possibly do to make pain shoot through my body. There is a curse that Death Eaters used to use on themselves when they were to punish themselves for displeasing their Lord. It is a little like the unforgivable curse that Professor Moody showed us in sixth year only you can use it on yourself and it doesn't take over your entire body, merely the part you point your wand at. It causes pain, yes, but the satisfaction is so different. I do it the 'muggle way' and use not my wand but other instruments. Scissors and blades George and I use for our little 'experiments'._

George's stomach lurched a little as he realised he was slightly disappointed for the way in which he had been mentioned. Ignoring this feeling of immense guilt, he read on.

_Sometimes I am proud of the scars that cover some parts of my body and sometimes when somebody accidentally sees one of them I feel like covering them up, screaming at the person who accidentally saw that it was none of their business and hiding away from everyone forever. But then I am left with a disgusting feeling of being so unbelievably dirty that no amount of showering could ever make it go away._

_Why would it ever matter to anyone that I do the things that I do? They would probably laugh. Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what they would do. Laugh long and hard at my little problems as though I do it for attention. Well, maybe I do some of the time. I thought that I did, to get attention for something other than making a large swamp appear in the third floor corridor that nobody could get rid of, but now it seems to be different._

_One thing I have to confide only in myself is_

George flipped over the page but the entry had stopped and the next page started with a new date. Confused, he turned back to the previous page and looked for any sign of interruption. Sighing, he turned the page and began to read the next entry dated the 5th of March.

_5th March 2004_

Just then, the door of his bedroom opened and Angelina wandered in, closing the door behind her. George scrambled to hide the diary underneath the coverlet of his bed when Angelina had her back to him and, thankfully, he succeeded in shielding it from view.

"That was quite a line up to the bathroom," Angelina was saying as she turned around. George pulled his hand back from underneath his covers and looked back at Angelina, aware of the guilt all over his freckled face. Angelina looked at him strangely.

"Is everything all right?" she asked him as she bent down next to her bed and searched for something on the floor.

George nodded, "yeah, fine."

Angelina smiled, "you're identical, George." She straightened up with a shoe in her hand and looked at him expectantly.

"Er, what?" George asked eloquently. Angelina narrowed her dark eyes and surveyed him with pursed lips.

"You and Fred," she continued, "you are identical."

George nodded, "yes, Angelina, I know," he told her with a hint of his old sarcastic humour.

Angelina rolled her eyes, "I could tell when there was something up with Fred and I can tell when there's something up with you."

To George's horror, Angelina hoisted herself off the floor and sat next to George on his bed, right on the place where he had just placed the diary.

"I can't believe it's only been a little over a week since….well," Angelina cleared her throat, and George could see that she, much like himself, couldn't find the words to describe what happened. "It feels like it happened years ago," Angelina started a new sentence to replace the one she couldn't finish.

George nodded, "I know what you mean."

Angelina turned towards George, shifting her weight as she did so and in doing so, dislodged the diary from it's hiding place. It slid to the floor with a soft clunk and Angelina bent down to pick it up, just as George lunged forward to grab it as well.

Angelina got to it first and she straightened up, the small black book in her hand.

"Sorry," she apologised, "I didn't see it."

"That's okay," George told her, sheer relief washing over him that she didn't look inside the front cover. Or at any other pages for that matter.

"Is that a diary?" Angelina asked as she stood up and smoothed down her pyjama pants that had become rumpled from sitting down.

"No," George said too quickly. Angelina looked at him strangely and George stupidly tried to fix his mistake.

"I mean, it isn't mine," he rectified. Even as he was saying this he knew it was a stupid thing to say for Angelina frowned slightly and looked at the book George was holding in his hand.

"Whose is it?" she asked slowly, looking from the diary to George.

"It's nobody's," he answered casually, "just a notebook."

"Whose notebook is it?" Angelina's stomach fluttered nauseatingly. She recognised the book from somewhere although she could not remember from where she had seen it.

"It's…" George stalled for time, wanting more than anything not to have to tell Angelina that he had in his possession her dead boyfriend's innermost thoughts.

"It's Fred's," she answered quietly, remembering where she had seen it.

George considered lying but upon seeing the look on Angelina's face, nodded sadly.


	9. I Love You Too

**Secrets Unknown**

Wow, I have had some truly fantastic reviewers over the past weeks that I have been posting this fanfiction. I want to thank each and every one of you for your support, without your reviews I would not have had the motivation to keep going. I know I left a slight cliff-hanger at the end of the last chapter so just to be annoying, I am going to do some review replies simply to delay you from reading the next part of the story further hehehe. Ah, I am so nasty. Anyway, onto the replies! 

**swoobleswirl: **Thankyou so much for saying you like my style of writing. I'm sorry for killing off Fred but if I brought him back now it might look a bit suss and I'm sure you would agree with that hehe.

**LittleWriterGirl: **I'm glad I helped you understand your best friend a bit more. It sounds like she needs to be understood by those closest to her at the moment if she is doing stuff like cutting herself. I know what it is like to need to be understood by my friends and if you can understand your best friend more, it would be a truly great gift to her.

**The.Little.Artist:** Thanks for telling your gecko and cat to review. They came over to my house personally and told me they liked my story hehe!

**angelface04:** Wow, I have to say that your reviews are always the most interesting to read! Is Angelina gonna read the diary this chapter? Or any other chapter for that matter? Well, you will just have to wait and see…

PS – Basketball? is very confused

**threepastmidnight09:** I'm so sorry that you know what it feels like for Angelina and I'll assume you meant George, not Fred. Nobody should have to experience such a loss as someone they care about taking their own life. I, myself, have experience a friend committing suicide and the saddest part was she seemed so normal, no, that isn't the right word at all, she seemed so happy, I suppose. And that is how Fred seemed to everyone too. I guess all is not always what it seems.

**digidestined02: **You are right, it truly is amazing what people can keep from even the closest to them.

**Ashliegh: **I really appreciated your review. It is fantastic when you are a writer to hear that people like your stories and style of writing but especially fantastic when a reviewer says why they like it. I am sorry I almost made you cry but a little part of my is jumping up and down with joy, elated that my story made such an impact on you.

**Maiden-of-hope:** Am I suicidal? I can't in all honesty even begin to answer a question like that. Not that it is terribly nosy, it is only the mere fact that I am frightened someone may read this and think 'wow, what a freak'. As a writer it is painful to admit that I do not dream up these diary entries, it is more the fact that some of my own feelings go into this fanfiction. I hope that anyone reading this would not think any less of me because of it. Instead of actually going through with it like Fred did, I am writing about it. That has to be worth something, right?

So, there you have it, replies!! I must apologise to those who did not get a reply. My lovely computer is being not all that lovely lately and refused to show me the first page of my reviews. Ah, machinery, I cannot get the hang of it. Anyway, back to the story, which I know some of you might be dying to read (hey, I can dream, can't I?). Just to refresh your memories, I am starting with the last few sentences from the last chapter…

Recap…

_"Whose notebook is it?" Angelina's stomach fluttered nauseatingly. She recognised the book from somewhere although she could not remember from where she had seen it._

_"It's…" George stalled for time, wanting more than anything not to have to tell Angelina that he had in his possession her dead boyfriend's innermost thoughts._

_"It's Fred's," she answered quietly, remembering where she had seen it._

_George considered lying but upon seeing the look on Angelina's face, nodded sadly._

**Chapter Nine: "I love you too"**

Angelina stood where she was for a long time, just staring at the diary George was holding in his hand. Finally she spoke.

"Does it say why…" Angelina croaked, not finishing her question.

George knew what she meant. Did Fred leave any kind of note to say why he did what he did? George couldn't answer her with a yes or a no for the fact was, he didn't know, himself. Finally he shook his head and said quietly, "I don't know yet."

"Have you been reading it?" Angelina asked, suddenly angry. George looked up at her in surprise. She hadn't been angry a moment ago, merely detached.

He nodded slowly, unsure of what Angelina wanted to hear. Would she be angry that he had been reading it, or angry that he hadn't?

Angelina nodded, not looking at George. She looked like she was making up her mind about something before she turned away from George, walked towards the door and exited, shutting the door softly behind her.

Angelina put on a brave face for the Weasley's in the kitchen before leaving through the kitchen door, trying desperately to hide the tears that were prickling at her eyes, threatening to fall. She had been coping with Fred's death as best she could but it wasn't enough. She still barely slept and when she did, her dreams were haunted with images of him, smiling, laughing, and yet leaving her without saying goodbye. Over and over again, each time waking from these dreams with the fresh sadness that she had experienced when she found out that he had taken his own life. Every night she woke feeling as though she had only just received the news that Fred was lost and gone forever.

But now...

George held something in his posession that she would have given her life to read. To get inside Fred's mind, to understand why he did what he did would be the greatest gift anyone could ever give her.

And yet, Angelina wondered to herself, she could not possibly bring herself to look at that journal even if she had it all to herself. Something about the fact that George had read some of it already made her stomach churn. Anger coursed through her veins as she thought of George knowing all Fred's secrets while she did not.

There was nothing stopping her reading the diary too. She had the right. The person she loved so dearly, the man she had been sleeping with for almost two years had left her and not said why. She wanted to know why. She _needed_ to know why someone who said he loved her more than anything chose to take his own life, rather than spend it with her.

_Flashback..._

_Angelina casually twirled Fred's fingers around her own. They lay in bed together, Fred's body wrapped around Angelina's, her back to him. Angelina knew that to most people, she and Fred looked as though they were constantly fighting, joking around or, worse, only friends. But on nights like these she knew that there was nothing remotely false about their relationship. Because when she said 'I love you' he never faltered to say it back._

_ "Fred?" Angelina turned slightly to see if he was awake. His eyes were closed but he mumbled slightly, indidcating he was not asleep._

_ "Mm Hmm?" He didn't open his eyes but his mouth curled upwards slightly in a small smile that made Angelina smile in spite of herself too._

_ "I love you," she told him softly._

_ He was silent for a moment before he opened his eye and smiled at her, "I love you too, Ange."_

_ Angelina looked back at the hand she held in her own and frowned as she noticed a cut on the underside of his wrist._

_ "Fred?" she began to ask him how he had hurt himself but found that he had fallen asleep, his lips gently touching her back and Angelina shook her head and fell asleep too, forgetting almost instantly about the cut._

Angelina stopped walking and looked back at the house. She had not noticed herself walking but her feet had taken her far away from 'The Burrow' and she now stood in the middle of the narrow road about 300 metres away.

Thinking back to times like these were not alarming as they may seem for she knew Fred was hurting himself. But she knew what kind of pressure he was under with the new store being opened and moving out of hime and everything. Because that is when she though he had been doing it. The only thing that really shocked her as she looked back to the times when Fred seemed so much happier than he really was, was the fact that she was happy too, depsite the fact that she knew Fred, deep down, was not.

Looking back at The Burrow she made a decision. As much as it would pain her, as much as it would tear at her inside and submit her to a fate worse than death, Angelina knew she wanted to know what Fred was thinking and, most of all, know why he chose to make her live the rest of his life without her. Without realising it, she was already halfway back to The Burrow.

George looked out of his bedroom window as Angelina stormed away. He could still see her, 50 metres away, wiping tears from her cheeks. The guilt he felt brewing inside him was worse than ever before and this time he could not tell why he felt such a strong surge of this emotion.

**Argh I am so sorry. I really hate writing these chapters that only serve the purpose of linking one chapter to another. I swear I will make the next one better. I also feel I must apologise for the fact that there has not been a lot of Fred's diary in previous chapters. I fear that this may be the case for the rest of the story also as I can think of less and less to put into the diary and actually still be meaningful and not repeat itself. I promise you that I will try my hardest to add in more diary entries but for now, the likelihood of there being more in each chapter than has been looks pretty bleak. R&R please!!!**


	10. It's been so long

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter Ten: "It's been so long since I have heard your voice "**

George sat at his window watching Angelina walk just over 300 meters away, turn, and suddenly make her way back to The Burrow. She walked more slowly than she had when she was storming away from the house. Now, she took her time as though she was still making up her mind whether or not she really did want to go back.

George began to panic. He hadn't meant to show Angelina the diary; she didn't need to go through the disturbing journey into Fred's mind that he had. And yet, George also felt a little jealous that she had seen it. He knew it was stupid. Angelina had loved Fred just as much as George did. But George was Fred's twin and somehow that seemed to be a deeper bond than just the relationship between Fred and Angelina. He felt terrible for thinking such a thing, but that didn't make him think it any less.

Angelina dawdled on her way back to the house, not wanting to get there and yet wishing that it wasn't taking so long. Her eyes dry now, she could face the Weasley family in the kitchen without too much effort to make it look as though nothing were wrong.

Angelina had become accustomed to putting on a brave face for the different members of the Weasley family. She felt almost uncomfortable showing her grief to them, when she knew that each of them were looking at her expecting her to break down into hysterical fits of anguish at any time. She didn't need that kind of attention, so she tried her best to smile and keep her mouth shut whenever a pitiful glance was thrown her way. After stepping through the door leading into the kitchen, she had to smile and keep her mouth shut to Ginny and Bill in the kitchen, Hermione on the stairs and even Harry was coming out of the bathroom on the first floor. When he had arrived Angelina had no idea, but she was glad of his company for Ron at least. She was slightly envious of Ron. He had his best friend and his lover with him to help him through such a hard time. She had lost both.

Despite the fact that he knew she was coming, George jumped when Angelina knocked on the door.

"I want to read it," she told him boldly after he had let her into the room.

George nodded slightly and invited her to sit down on his bed. He sat down next to her, picking up the diary from its place on the desk before doing so.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked her.

She nodded, tentatively at first but then, seeming surer of herself, her head bobbed up and down more vigorously.

George sighed, placed the little black diary on his lap and turned to the page he was reading last. He hesitated, stole a glance at Angelina and upon finding her watching him intently, began to read out loud.

"_March fifth, two thousand and four._

_Angelina has moved into her flat with Katie, Alicia, and a girl from Katie's year. She now lives in a little muggle village near Hogsmeade. She got a job in Hogsmeade working in the market. She stays with me a lot more now that she lives closer. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Obviously I love her more than anything. Of course it makes me happy when she is around. But at the same time, when I am happy around her, I feel traitorous to my own feelings of self-loathing and sadness. The guilt that consumes me when I am happy is almost too much to bear. It's almost as if-"_

"Stop," whispered Angelina.

George stopped reading from the diary, bookmarked the page and lay the book down on the bed. Angelina was staring at her hands as they lay limply in her lap, a tear running down each cheek.

George lay a hand on hers, "it wasn't you, Angie."

Angelina nodded, more tears spilling from her brown eyes.

"I know that," she choked, "I just can't believe that he…that he felt like that and I didn't even realize it."

George sighed, remembering his reaction when he first read the diary. Becoming numb to its effects was the best solution but he didn't want to suggest that to Angelina at that very moment.

"I know," he said heavily, "he seems like a whole other person."

Angelina stood up and went over to the window, arms wrapped around herself as though it had suddenly turned cold. George let her go, not daring to tell her that the next words of Fred's were _"It's almost as if it hurts too much to be with her"_. He knew she had suffered enough.

George stayed seated on the bed while Angelina stared out of the window. After a few minutes, without turning around Angelina spoke.

"I can almost hear him saying all that," she said softly, "all that stuff in the diary," she waved her hand vaguely at where George was sitting to punctuate her point.

"Is it a comfort?" George asked unexpectedly. He wasn't even aware that he had said anything until the last word left his lips. He cringed, worried about the reaction he was going to get. He expected Angelina not to answer him but to his surprise she shrugged.

"Yes and no," she answered.

George knew what she meant. Hearing Fred's voice was a comfort in itself. After talking to the same person almost every day for the entirety of your life, it is a shock to the system when you realize you were never going to hear their voice again. But the words were the disturbing part. And both Angelina and George would have rather never heard Fred's voice again if he were going to speak such words of self-loathing.

A knock at the door jarred both of them from their thoughts. Angelina turned around and stared at George who got up from the bed and opened the door. Hermione looked apologetic.

"Sorry if I am interrupting anything," she said, realizing from their faces that she had done just that, "but Bill asked me to get you down into the kitchen for dinner. He made lamb chops," she added.

George nodded and told her that they would be down in a few minutes. Hermione nodded in turn and made her way back to the staircase at the end of the landing. They could hear her clattering down the stairs and as the sound subsided he turned to Angelina once more.

"Will you want to-" he tried to ask her if she would want to try reading the diary again later and Angelina shrugged again.

"I don't know," she said sadly, "I really don't know."

**DONE! Another chapter up! Please review! Angelface04 that means you too!**


	11. The Drinking Game

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter 11: "The Drinking Game"**

Dinner in the Weasley kitchen had always been a happy affair. Due to the frequent flow of guests through the house laughter and happy chattering was almost an anthem. Since Fred's death, however, every meal had been dreaded by the Weasley family and the other house guests. Tonight was no exception. When Angelina and George took their places, a feeble "hello" was all the greeting they received. George looked around the table at the anguish and total devastation his brother's suicide had caused to his fellow family members. Bill smiled weakly as he served up the meal of lamb chops and assorted vegetables that George knew before even putting a bite to his mouth that he wouldn't be able to taste; Ron and Hermione quietly held hands, not speaking to anyone, not even each other; Ginny, her cheek rested on her palm, poked her vegetables with a fork, showing no inclination of eating; Percy, usually pompous and eager to share his experiences with the Ministry of Magic was unusually subdued; Charlie and his father sat stony-faced, talking unenthusiastically about the news of a new species of dragon Charlie had been working with; and his mother, usually the pinnacle of bubbly personality and generosity of spirit, sat silently looking directly at the rest of her family but George knew she didn't really see them.

George ate in silence, terribly aware of the fact that he was seated next to someone who knew the same things he did about his twin. He looked up and saw Angelina looking at him. He smiled and quickly bent down over his food again.

Ginny and George cleared the dishes off the table when dinner was over. It was Hermione's turn to clean and Charlie's turn to dry so pending the fact that they were not needed anymore, George and Angelina went back to their room. Angelina commented that they probably should stay downstairs just to talk to the rest of the family but George shook his head.

"No," he disagreed, "really, none of us have anything to talk about at the moment."

Once back in their room, Angelina suggested a card game and George really didn't have the energy to disagree so he grabbed a deck of cards from one of the desk drawers and they settled down on George's bed to play a Muggle game Harry had taught them called "Go Fish".

It was nearing the end of the game (Angelina winning, much to George's displeasure) when a knock on the door interrupted Angelina's smugness.

Angelina looked at George who shrugged. Angelina gave him a strange look before calling out "come in!"

The door opened and George and Angelina both broke into smiles at the sight of the people who entered the room.

Angelina climbed off the bed and practically flung herself into the arms of a much older looking Oliver Wood. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell smiled at George who smiled feebly back while Harry Potter followed the three others into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Quidditch reunion!" Katie told George and Angelina.

George actually grinned at that. He had always been happiest when he had been around his six best friends. Then his grin quickly subsided when he realized that he was only ever going to be with five of them now. When Angelina finally drew away from Oliver's hug he walked over to where George had just stood up. He put his arms around George for a quick hug and said into his ear, "I'm sorry, man." He pulled away and gave him a pat on the shoulder, his eyes glistening slightly. George nodded, a slight smile on his lips.

Oliver stepped back into the rest of the company, "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," he said apologetically, "but the coach wouldn't let me leave until now. And even so, I can only stay the night."

George nodded, "It's really good to see all of you."

Angelina agreed, "I like seeing us all in the same room again." She smiled sadly and everyone knew she was thinking an additional "if only we could all be here together."

Harry patted George on the back and told him he would be back in a while after saying hello to his two best friends. George nodded and turned back to Oliver who smiled and addressed the rest of the group.

"Muggle London tonight?"

Every so often the group had gotten together in the holidays or weekends when George and Fred had not been minding the shop or when the others hadn't been working, and when Oliver had time off from training, and traipsed casually into Muggle London to partake in an activity very popular among the non-wizarding population of the world: Clubbing.

Alicia and Katie nodded gingerly but Angelina turned to George for his reaction to the suggestion. For a moment most of the group thought he would decline the offer but he nodded.

"Okay."

That night the six of them plus Ron and Hermione stepped into the fireplace of The Burrow and said audibly, "The Leaky Cauldron".

Tom greeted the eight of them warmly as they stepped out of the soot, clearly accustomed to the arrival of guests in this fashion. As was tradition of their clubbing nights, they sat down at the bar for a drink as Tom grabbed six glasses, pointed his wand at various bottles along the back wall and proceeded to fill the glasses with the choice drink of each group member he knew by heart. He then turned to Ron and Hermione for their orders. Harry grinned at the others as he drank his bourbon and cola in one huge gulp. George noticed Ron looking a little confused at the fact that the barman knew his preferred drink. He realized then that Harry never told Ron about the fact that he had been joining the others when they went out on the town for over a year. I guess it's easier than I thought, keeping information from your best friends, George thought as he sipped at his own drink.

Tonight was just what he needed. Something he heard numerous times throughout the night as he struggled to believe it himself. Sure, time alone with his friends was a comfort, but in reality, it was going to achieve absolutely nothing.

Sometime during the night Angelina came and sat down next to George who was brooding by the bar, a few too many drinks under his belt. He gazed blearily at the girl as she sat down on the stool next to his and he noticed with some difficulty that tears were running down her cheeks.

"It's not helping." She stated simply.

George, although heavily intoxicated, knew what she meant and nodded.

Angelina sniffed and wiped her eyes with a napkin from the bar. She looked at George and a look of concern crossed her face.

"Are you okay, George?"

The question lingered somewhere between his ears and his brain before registering and he nodded, accepting another drink from the bartender. As he fumbled with his wallet, trying to count the Muggle money with some difficulty, Angelina pulled out her own purse and handed the tender a 5 pound note.

"You're drunk." She said in dismay.

Another few seconds and the sentence reached his brain. Too tired and too aware of the fact that he could not pull off an act of sobriety, George nodded and skulled his drink, coughing and gagging when the last drop reached his throat.

"George? George!" Angelina jumped up from her seat in alarm as George out his hand over his mouth and gagged. She looked around for the others but they were nowhere in sight, dancing and unaware of the unhappiness of their two friends. She put her arms around George's waist and tried to pull him to a standing position. With some difficulty she got him off the seat and with his arm around her shoulders she dragged him outside where he promptly threw up on the pavement. The bouncer, unhappy at the mess at his feet told Angelina to take her friend home for they would not be permitted to go back inside.

"Damn," she said to herself as George slumped onto the ground, at least some distance away from the mess he had just made. She sat him down against the wall and watched fearfully as his eyes closed.

"Oh, God." She looked for the bouncer pleadingly and he grudgingly obliged by coming over and squatting down and slapping George firmly on the cheek.

"Come on, son," he slapped a bit harder when George did not open his eyes. Finally, to Angelina's relief he opened his eyes blearily, clearly unaware of his surroundings.

"My friends are inside," she told the bouncer who nodded.

"You go get them and I'll make sure this one stays awake."

Angelina thanked the man profusely before running back inside the club to find the others. She found Hermione and Harry first and told them briefly what had happened and told them to find the others then come outside. They nodded and went to find Katie, Oliver, and Alicia. Angelina hurried outside and found the bouncer holding a cup of water to George's lips, trying in vain to get him to drink it.

"Thanks," Angelina told the bouncer as she approached, "I can try now."

The bouncer nodded and told her she could come to him if she needed anymore help before regaining his post at the door, keeping half an eye on the two twenty year olds a little way away from him.

Angelina lifted the cup to George's lips and tried to force the rim into his mouth.

George grunted and pulled away.

Angelina was almost in tears.

"George, sweetie, please drink the water, it will make you feel better." Even as she spoke, she knew there was more than just a slight possibility that he did not want to feel better. She knew how he felt. As she kept trying to make him drink the water, at the same time trying to keep him awake, the others rushed outside looking for them. When the girls saw George they rushed over looking scared but Oliver just rolled his eyes and knelt down on the pavement beside George, slapping his face as the bouncer had done.

"Come on, mate," Oliver said firmly, "wakey, wakey."

"How much did he have to drink?" Harry asked, worriedly. None of them were stone sober but they were not as bad as George. Ron looked on nervously, he was unaccustomed to the people he associated with drinking so much that they blacked out. He, Harry and Hermione had never been big drinkers during school. Or so I thought, Ron thought to himself as he glanced sideways at his friend. Harry stared determinedly at the scene before him, avoiding his friends gaze. Ron had been cool towards him all night and Harry was smart enough to know why.

A collective shout of, "George!" drew their attention back to the others. George had closed his eyes and slumped down to the ground. With Harry's help, Oliver lifted George off the ground, holding him up as Angelina had done to take him outside. George's eyes fluttered briefly but stayed closed.

"We have to take him to a hospital." Oliver said, hoisting George up as he said so.

"There is one two streets over," a deep Scottish voice behind them meant that the bouncer had come back to check on "the kids" as he had been talking to his colleagues about.

George's friends looked at each other uncomfortably. It was true that they needed to get George to a hospital but a Muggle hospital was not what they needed. However, the bouncer was involved now, and any protests of going to the nearby hospital would just look irresponsible on their part.

Oliver nodded, "Where is it?"

As the bouncer (who's name was Steve) explained the quickest way to get there, George opened his eyes and emptied an abundant amount of his stomach contents onto the ground in front of him. Unluckily, some of it onto Oliver and Angelina. However, they did not mind as much as George looked a little more aware of his surroundings after that. They sat him back down on the ground, moving away from the vomit on the street. Oliver shed his soiled shirt and Angelina attempted to wipe it from her shoes. George looked sheepish.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Angelina knelt down next to him.

"George?" she asked tentatively, hoping to gain s response.

He raised his head, "Hmm?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, feeling very choked up.

He looked at her for a moment and nodded, leaning back against the wall, breathing deeply as he tried to control the waves of nausea washing over him.

Oliver sighed, "Up you get, mate. Time for bed."

With Oliver's help, George was able to get to his feet and they lead him back to The Leaky Cauldron. Not wanting to wake Mrs Weasley, they carried George upstairs as quietly as they could, Ron staying downstairs to look through the cupboards for any potion of concoction that could make George feel better. George was able to change his own clothes and lay down on his bed, wanting more than anything to go to sleep and not have to face his friends in the morning. Since Angelina was staying there anyway, she offered to take care of George while the others went home and Katie, Alicia and Oliver went back to the flat that Katie and Alicia shared. Oliver offered to stay behind and deal with the vomit but Angelina shook her head.

"It's okay," She told them, "go home."

* * *

George woke suddenly, feeling the bile rise in his throat. He ran to the bathroom, glad that he got there in time. Feeling the effects of alcohol poisoning ebbing, he climbed back into bed, trying not to make too much noise. He was glad to see that Angelina was still asleep. Sighing, he pulled the diary from under his pillow and lit his wand.

"_Lumos."_

_March 8th 2004_

_I'm tired. I'm so tired I barely know what is going on anymore. I wish I could just curl up and sleep for a hundred years or more. This chronic cycle of fatigue is getting to me. George commented the other day that I sleep in too much. And even mum, when I saw her, fussed more than usual about the bags under my eyes. I sleep a lot. But sleeping is never enough. I need rest. Lots of rest. An eternity of rest. I feel terrible for the people around me that I am not happy. Not that they would be able to tell that the torment I feel everyday is killing me. "Torment?" They would say, "What torment? You are Fred Weasley. Co-founder of an illustrious joke shop that delights witches and wizards of all ages. Torment. Ha, you must be joking."_

_That's me, a big joker. _

_I have spent my life creating different gags that's trick people. And now that really has become my life. I trick people. I make them think I am happy and normal. But really, I am just like them. _

_I am so tired of acting. I need to rest. One day I will have my rest. Until then I will continue to be tired._

* * *

**A/N: Took me long enough to update, eh? Well, there you go! Not much diary but a little more interaction with other characters. Please review! Even if you don't like it. I love my reviews. I won't update unless I get 15 reviews for this chapter :P So tell your friends and family that if they feel the need to be seriously depressed, read this story. Ciao!**


	12. To Be Alone

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter 12: "To Be Alone "**

Angelina woke first. Keeping her eyes shut tightly, she stumbled out of bed and over to the window where she attempted to close the curtains to stop the light coming in. As she did so she heard a voice mumble behind her, "Thank God."

Pulling the curtains closed she opened her eyes and turned around. In the dim light she could see George's scruffy red hair poking over the top of the covers where he had pulled them up to avoid the glare. Climbing back into bed, she asked gingerly, "How are you feeling?"

A raspy voice answered, "Like shit."

Not wanting to press the matter of the previous nights antics, Angelina snuggled down beneath the covers once again and rolled over. She had every intention of going back to sleep and letting George do so but after a minute or two he spoke again.

"I'm really sorry, Angie."

Angelina rolled over and saw George looking at her, a pained expression on his face.

"It's okay," she told him, "I'm just glad you are alright."

He nodded, a look on his face telling her that he wasn't sure about being alright.

"How's your head?" she asked him, propping herself up onto one elbow.

"Throbbing." George tried getting into the same position as Angelina but failed as his head swam. He lay back down, eyes tightly shut. He opened them again and rolled over to face her.

"How are your shoes?" he asked, remembering an embarrassing piece of information from the night before.

Angelina blinked in surprise, "You remember that?"

George stifled a yawn, "Vaguely," he told her.

"How's your stomach?" Angelina asked him, knowing that he had been up several times during the night. She pretended to be asleep every time he got back from the bathroom to avoid any embarrassment on his part.

"Terrible. I want to die."

Angelina's heart did a back flip and fell off the tightrope.

"Don't say that." She whispered.

George realized what he had said and he cringed.

"Sorry Angie. I didn't mean it to be like that. All I meant was-"

"It's okay," she cut him off, "it's just that…Fred said that once. I laughed at him for it."

"When was that?" Ignoring the pain in his head, George leaned on his elbow, his cheek in the palm of his hand.

"After a party we went to. It was the birthday of a girl I work with. Fred drank. He drank a lot. Did you ever notice that?" she said unexpectedly, turning to George once again.

George thought for a moment. Both boys enjoyed a drink now and then. He could remember times when they had just sat at home, watching television and drinking just to have fun. But, thinking back, George realized just how often Fred took it to that next level. He'd passed out a few times, waking up the next morning with a slight hangover, but getting over it in an hour or two. It had happened way too often.

"Yeah, I did notice that," George said softly, remembering, "I guess I just never thought anything of it."

Angelina nodded, "You and me both. Well, anyway," she continued, "I had never seen him drink so much. He got home and just passed out cold. I guess I just figured he was really tired. Are you okay?" she looked at George with concern for he had suddenly turned pale, his freckles sticking out more than usual against that stark white of his skin.

"I feel sick," he said not untruthfully, "go on."

Angelina continued, still watching George in case he fell out of bed or something.

"Anyway, I just thought that he was really tired, and tiredness mixed with alcohol…in the morning he felt pretty bad. He said he wanted to die-" her voice cracked and George looked at her with alarm.

She shook her head and continued, "At the time I thought he meant because of the alcohol. But now…" tears ran down either side of her nose and she wiped them away, embarrassed. "I keep remembering things about Fred," she said softly, "things that make much more sense now than they did at the time."

George nodded, realizing that she should just keep talking. He didn't need to say anything. He knew what she meant but he didn't have to say so.

Angelina continued, "I just…I wish I had known what was going on in his head. I wish that I had not thought he was joking all the time and actually read deeper into the things he said."

George sighed; he was no stranger to thoughts such as these. Every day since Fred's death all he had wondered was "Why didn't he see it coming? Why didn't he see the signs?" And ever since he found the diary all he had thought was exactly what Angelina was voicing. He shouldn't have taken his twins joking manner for granted. George's head gave an extra large thump as he realized just how much he had betrayed his brother and best friend. All the time he had been feeling anger at Fred which should have been directed at himself.

"Don't do that."

George looked up, startled. "Don't do what?"

"I can see what you are doing. You're thinking the same thing I am. That we betrayed him, right?"

George nodded, "Actually that is _exactly _what I was thinking. How did you know?"

Angelina shrugged, "I feel that way too. I loved him so much and yet I just didn't take the time to actually realize he was hurting."

George nodded. Feeling as sick as he did, the last thing he wanted to do was to dwell on his best friends recent suicidal tendencies.

Angelina must have had the same idea for she suddenly stretched and sat up. She pulled George to his feet and dragged him to the door.

"You need a nice greasy breakfast!" She told him brightly.

He appreciated her trying to help but all the bouncing around was not doing anything for his head or his stomach. As they stepped out into the hall, the smell of bacon and eggs wafted up the stairs and George's stomach churned. He held his hand over his mouth and ignored Angelina's question of whether or not he was okay as he rushed off to the bathroom.

George sat down next to Angelina, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid any questions about why he was rushing out of the room. Angelina eyed him, as though to make sure he wasn't going to faint or throw up but he gave her a nod and she turned back to her food.

Porridge seemed to be the best bet so George eagerly put spoonfuls of it to his mouth, surprised at how hungry he really was. The last mouthful was barely to his lips when the fire in the fireplace suddenly glowed green and the disembodied head of Oliver Wood bobbed casually amongst the flames. Mrs Weasley screamed when she saw the head there but realizing who it was, smiled and said hello as though disembodied heads floating in her kitchen was a very normal and acceptable sight.

George looked away, highly embarrassed about the previous nights exploits and forcefully aware of the reason to Oliver's visit. Angelina, however, got up from her seat and squatted down in front of the fireplace. The rest of the family, realizing the visit was for either George or Angelina, went about their normal everyday business, ignoring the floating head.

"Hi," Angelina said quietly to Oliver's head.

Oliver smiled, "How's he holding up?" he nodded towards where George was talking enthusiastically to Hermione who had a look on her face as though she wondered where the sudden burst of energy had come from but was far too happy with George's turn of attitude to question it.

Angelina shrugged, "He's really embarrassed, I think."

Oliver looked grim, "He's not dealing with Fred's death very well, is he?"

Angelina shrugged, stung that Oliver would say something so blasé about her boyfriend's suicide.

Oliver must had sensed what he had done and cringed, "I'm so sorry," he apologized, "that was tactless."

"Yeah," Angelina said softly, "but don't worry about it."

Oliver seemed to be at a loss for words for the moment so Angelina helpfully provided conversation.

"Are the others awake yet?"

Oliver nodded, "Katie is here but Alicia went to buy eggs."

"When do you have to go back?" Angelina asked suddenly, remembering that Oliver was only allowed out for the one night.

"This afternoon," he said glumly, "do you want to do something today? Something not involving alcohol," he added, glancing in George's direction.

Angelina looked over at George who was gesticulating at her in a way that suggested he badly wanted her to make her excuses and leave the conversation. She ignored him and turned back to Oliver.

"I think that would be a great idea. What did you have in mind?" Oliver shrugged, looking thoughtful for a moment before grinning.

"How about a game of quidditch?"

Angelina groaned. The game that had brought them all together in the first place was a distant memory in Angelina's mind. She had long forgotten what it was like to have the courage and talent to win game after game. She didn't miss it.

"No," Angelina rejected the idea and Oliver laughed, "Why don't you just come here? I think the family is going into town today to see a movie with Mr Weasley."

"A movie?" interjected Oliver.

Angelina shrugged, "Muggle thing, I think."

Oliver leaned over his shoulder and muttered to Katie before turning back to Angelina and nodding, "We will be over in an hour."

George sat on the edge of bed, far more embarrassed than he wanted to admit. Although the exact details of the previous night's activities were all a blur, he knew explicitly just how foolish he had acted and he had no desire to face the people who saw him in such a state.

"Oh, George, come on," Angelina pleaded half-heartedly, "we are your best friends, we don't give a shit how you look most of the time."

George smiled but he wasn't convinced. He didn't want them to come over. He wanted to stay home and read the diary. In the last entry Fred had described his current life as tiring. He suddenly appreciated the sentiments.

Oliver, Katie, and Alicia arrived and sat around George's room chatting and avoiding the issue of what had happened the night before. George was silent for the most part, answering only to say that he was fine. Finally he was sick of the pretence and he said loudly, "You _can_ bring up last night, you know."

Alicia and Katie looked uncomfortable, Angelina and Oliver exchanged looks and George laughed, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head that had not yet subsided.

"Once again you treat me like a child."

"George-" Angelina said quickly but he glared at her and snapped.

"What, Ange? What were you going to say?"

Angelina shut her mouth and looked away, eyes burning.

Alicia and Katie squirmed in their seats but Oliver stood up.

"Look, George-" but George cut him off too.

"What dumb-fuck motivational thing are you going to come out with now, Wood?"

Oliver clenched his fists, trying to control his rage against the guy who had just lost his brother.

"Look man, we did a lot for you last night." Oliver noticed that George at least had the decency to look abashed but the emotion did not last long and was quickly replaced by anger.

"Hey, I didn't ask you to fawn all over me like I am an invalid."

"No, you didn't," both Oliver and George were standing now, facing each other as though the girls in the room did not exist, "But we helped you. You are our friend and we wanted to help you, you thankless-"

"You should have let me die there!" George roared before a harsh slap caused him to lose balance and fall to the floor. Angelina stood, fists clenched, tears splashing angrily onto her cheeks, breathing heavily.

"You think you are the only one who lost someone they love, George?" Angelina's voice was quiet and controlled but every syllable shook with emotion. "You think you are the only one hurting? Do you?" She screamed the last two words and Alicia and Katie took their leave. George looked angrily up at her from the floor but she glared furiously back.

"Hey, guys-" Oliver tried to make peace but neither party responded. They saw only each other.

"You were born together!" Angelina screamed, "I chose to love him! I chose to devote my entire life to him when you were just beginning to separate yourselves. He left the both of us, George!"

George stared at her, "Angie-" he started to apologise but she didn't care. Storming from the room, she slammed the door so hard that Oliver was surprised the rickety house stayed standing. Soon her angry footsteps subsided and it was just Oliver and George. The latter sat ashamedly staring at his hands.

"I'm not a very good friend, am I?" he whispered.

Oliver sighed and sat down, trying to wind down from the argument.

"You're a great friend. You just experienced one of the worst things a person can experience."

George nodded, the effects of the alcohol and the emotion of what had happened getting to him. Not wanting to cry in front of Oliver he turned away but Oliver got up and walked over to where he sat on the floor. Sitting next to him, Oliver put his arm around the crying boy and pulled him a little closer.

"George, we are here to help you."

George nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. He didn't want to cry. He was tired of showing emotion and weakness.

"George?" Oliver asked tentatively. "Talk to me."

George sighed and shook his head, his throat hurting from the sobs that were trying to escape. "Just go away." George whispered but Oliver just tightened his grip.

"I can't do that."

Finally George couldn't take it anymore. He let the tears fall from his eyes and the sobs escape his mouth. He thought Oliver would be uncomfortable with such a display but he just stayed seated on the floor next to him, occasionally giving George's shoulder a squeeze. George cried until he was too tired to move and he remembered his brothers words.

"_I am so tired of acting. I need to rest. One day I will have my rest. Until then I will continue to be tired."_

Oliver helped George climb into bed before leaving the room. George's last thoughts before he fell asleep were disturbing and frightening. What if he turned out like his brother? What if suddenly he felt the way Fred did, that life just wasn't worth living anymore? He felt so tired lately. Closing his eyes, George fell into a sleep filled with uneasy thoughts and dreams.


	13. For when I sleep I dream

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter 13: "And when I sleep I dream"**

**Warning:** Gory and disturbing content

Once again George's night was filled with restless and disturbing dreams. He woke repeatedly during the night, forgetting instantly what the dreams had been about, only knowing they had been some of the most scary experiences of his life. When finally waking to find sunlight streaming through the curtains over Angelina's bed, he recalled the last dream he had.

Once again he had been in his flat, this time lying casually on the couch in the little living room. Upon hearing a strangled cry from Fred's room, he leapt off the couch and tried to run toward the sound but tripped. Stumbling to his feet, half running half crawling he finally reached Fred's room and pushed the door open. Fred sat on the floor, slumped against the side of his bed, eyes closed and whispering something George could not make out. George's stomach dropped as he noticed what had caused his twin to cry out. Three gashes on each wrist. Six deep and bleeding gashes, each gash more hurriedly done than the last, the first a long and precise cut about two inches long. George rushed to his twin's side, trying in vain to find a cloth of some sort to stop the bleeding but everything he reached for disappeared as soon as he touched it. Reaching for his wand did nothing too, for even though he could feel its weight in the back pocket of his jeans, he could not find it. Desperate, George pressed his bare hands against the wounds, applying as much pressure as he could. Leaning in toward his brother, George said as loudly and as clearly as he could, "Fred? Can you hear me?"

Expecting Fred not to answer, George jumped as Fred opened his eyes and looked at him clearly, "Of course I can hear you, you pillock, there is no need to yell."

George was shocked, "How can you-, what are you-, what have you done?!" he finally managed to get out.

Fred looked confused, "What do you mean?"

The blood was escaping through George's fingers and running down his arms and onto the carpet below and he began to panic.

"Please, Fred," George tried to lift his brother, "I have to get you to a hospital."

Fred pulled his arm away and blood spurted even more violently from his wounds. "Why in the world would I need a hospital?" he asked, obviously annoyed at being manhandled.

George's heart pounded in his ears, he could feel bile rising from his stomach to his throat. The situation and the sight of so much blood was making him feel sick to his stomach. Trying desperately to raise Fred off the floor, his brother resisted just as much as George tried.

"George!" Fred tried to get George's attention but George was far too panicked to listen.

"George," Fred said again, "I'm not the one who needs a hospital!"

George stopped trying to pull Fred into a standing position and stared at his brother's wrists where the bleeding had stopped and scars had formed where cuts previously lay.

"How…How did they stop…?"

Fred shook his head, "You're mental, bro," he said pointing to his head with one scarred arm, "_you_ are the one who needs medical attention. Look." Fred calmly pointed to George's wrists where blood was spilling from them at an alarming rate.

"Oh, shit," George whispered as he slumped to the floor.

"It's okay, George," Fred's voice filtered through the growing darkness, "It will be the best thing you could ever do. I needed to do it."

George woke with a start and lay sweating beneath the bed covers, which he had tangled around his limbs. He looked around frantically at his surroundings and down at his own arms which, he was relieved to see, were free of any kind of wound, save for a tiny scar which remained from when his older brother Charlie had pushed him off his toy broomstick when he was four. Everyone had always joked that the scar would be the only thing that could tell the twins apart until three months later, in an accident involving a rather vicious Garden Gnome, Fred received a scar in almost the exact same place on his arm. George sighed to himself as he realised that he and his twin really had shared absolutely everything in their shared lifetime. George glanced at the clock on the wall, trying to wind down from the terrifying experience of the nightmare he had just had. It was only seven thirty and already Angelina had risen. From the sound of the kitchen downstairs, so had a lot of the others of the Weasely family. Eager for these disturbing thoughts and dreams not to disrupt the rest of his life, George quickly dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

As he entered the kitchen, he observed just how fast the Weasely family had moved past the tragic loss of one of its members and attempted to rebuild their lives as they knew them before. His mother stood at the stove cooking copious amounts of porridge for everyone, Angelina and Hermione at her side, chatting about this-and-that and using their wands to chop up pieces of fruit from the garden. His father had already left, Ron told him, to help out with some emergency at the Ministry of Magic. Ginny quarrelled with Charlie about something, and Percy sat reading the newspaper out loud to anyone who would listen. George was scornful at their behaviour, both appalled at and envious of their ability to leave the tragedy behind them. He tried to content himself with the idea that they were hurting just as much as he was but they chose not to show it, but as much as he tried, he couldn't convince himself that they had each had a dream about blood gushing from Fred's wrists the night before. Angelina smiled and said good morning, as did the rest of the family, but George could not believe that they felt no sadness or torment, the same as he did.

After breakfast, his mother asked him to go to the market to get some ingredients for dinner and, eager to get out of the house for a while, he agreed, asking Angelina if she wanted to join him.

Living near a muggle village, George had two options of where to go to buy the food. There was a small market in the heart of the nearby village, almost a half an hour away by car, or there was a 10 second "floo-powder trip" to Diagon Alley. He opted for the former of the choices, unwilling to bump into any well-wishers of his brothers demise.

George had no intention of bringing last nights dream into the conversation, yet found it difficult not to when Angelina brought up the subject of why he was thrashing around in his sheets during the night.

George sighed, "Ah, just a bad dream."

"What about?" Angelina enquired casually.

George took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at her and she looked nonchalantly out of the window. George shook his head, "You don't want to know, Ange."

The rest of the car trip was fairly uneventful. Things were still a little uncomfortable from the previous afternoons explosions and George apologised a few times before he felt better about what he had said. Angelina, once again, told him not to worry about anything but George ignored her advice and worried all he wanted. Once at the market, Angelina asked him again what his dream had been about and, again, he told her she didn't want to know. This seemed to satisfy her for a little while but in the middle of choosing an eggplant, she spoke up.

"I doubt your dreams are any different to mine, George."

George felt the same way but rather than agreeing with her he just shrugged his shoulders and reached for yet another of the purple vegetables.

"I've had them almost every night." Angelina pressed.

"Are eggplants supposed to have speckles on them?" George wondered out loud, trying to change the subject.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, George." Angelina snapped. "But I do."

George sighed, "Do we have to?"

Angelina narrowed her eyes at him, "No, we don't _have_ to, but it would be helpful for me, and I think it would be helpful for you, too!"

The image of Fred's wrists dripping in blood, and then his own, immediately sprang to George's mind and he wondered if maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk about it a little.

"Okay," George agreed, "When we get home."

Angelina sat in subdued silence as the news of George's distressing dream settled in her mind. Just as the image of Fred's self mutilation haunted George's mind, so did it now stick in Angelina's mind almost as real as it would be had she been there to see it herself.

"He killed himself but slitting his wrists?" She asked in a whisper.

George shook his head, "No, that's the weird part."

"How…How did he do it then?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "You said you didn't want to know."

"I know I didn't," Angelina lowered her eyes to the floor and blinked her long dark lashes. Then she looked back up at George, "but I feel like I should know now."

George looked at her for a moment, searching her face for any signs of regret to this statement before answering, "Medication."

"Medication?" Angelina didn't understand, "What medication was he on?"

"Anti-depressants, apparently. He got them from St Mungo's. Dad, uh, went in there after Fred was…found. Um," he steadied his voice and continued, "we found prescription medication in his room next to him and…just kinda filled in the rest…" his voice trailed off.

Angelina said nothing. She felt she owed it to her boyfriend to know how he had died but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of actually knowing the truth.

"Hey," George looked her in the eye, "It's okay, Ange."

Angelina nodded and leaned back against the wall. Looking out the window she saw Ginny, Ron and Hermione laughing and playing around with their broomsticks. She had so many memories with them, they reminded her of Hogwarts. Thinking about Hogwarts reminded her of the first time she and Fred had kissed. The first time she had snuck into the boys' dorm just to sleep next to him. And the first time he had told her that he loved her more than he thought he could ever love anyone. Now the only memories of him that occupied her mind were the startling dreams she had at night and the memory that haunted her every waking minute of the way she felt when she received the news that Fred had hated his life so much that he felt the need to end it.


	14. The Anger I Feel

**Secrets Unknown**

**Chapter 14: "The Anger I Feel"**

The next few days were a blur. Nothing monumental happened but something seemed to be different in the Weasley household. George visited their store a few times to check on things but the blooming business barely seemed to need his help anymore. So he chose to just lay around the house and help with various chores. Hermione had gone back to work and Ginny had returned to school. Before leaving, Ginny had confided in George that she was excited to be going back to Hogwarts but she was secretly dreading the slew of questions she knew awaited her about her brother's death. When Ginny told him this, George had no idea to respond. However, being the good big brother he hoped he was, he told her not to worry about anything and that everything would be alright. He felt like a fraud by saying that to her but it seemed to ease Ginny's mind and that's all that mattered.

One by one The Burrow began to empty as its house guests slowly returned to their normal everyday lives. Charlie had returned to Romania to continue his work with dragons and Bill had to go back to his job at Gringott's. Finally only George, Angelina and Ron remained in the house, none of them wanting to leave and face the reality of their situation.

Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell had begun to invite Angelina over more and more in, what George imagined was, a vain attempt to distract her from her grief. On the outside it seemed to work, Angelina was smiling a lot more and seemed to have more of a bounce in her step. However, she still shared a room with George and at night he could not ignore the sound of her sobbing into her pillow. As sickening as it seemed, it had begun to be the thing that lulled George into an uneasy sleep. As much as Alicia and Katie begged, Angelina refused to stay the night and always returned to The Burrow to sleep, and only George knew why.

"They asked me to move in."

George stirred from his daydream. He, Angelina and Ron had been out in the field closest to the house, just lying in the sunshine that was peeking out of the clouds. Ron had run inside to get the three of them a drink, and Angelina had leaned up on one elbow to face George.

He didn't need to ask what she meant. Katie and Alicia had been asking Angelina to move into their flat for a few weeks now, gently musing the idea at first and then getting more and more emphatic with their suggestions. George wasn't sure what to say to her so he asked if she had thought about it. Angelina rolled onto her back and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight. Shrugging she said.

"Yeah, I've thought about it."

George still didn't know how to respond, so he stayed still in thought. He thought about what would happen when Angelina left to return to her real life and he had to do the same. He had become accustomed to his way of life, sad, lonely and desolate as it was. He enjoyed being home with his family and he didn't want to disturb the balance he had created. With a jolt he realised he had been entertaining the idea of Angelina coming back to the flat and living with him.

It was as though she knew exactly what he was thinking for Angelina turned towards him once more and said, "I've thought about that too, George," she said gently.

"What?" George asked, stupidly.

"I know I basically lived there with you guys, and it would be easy to just move in and make it permanent."

George shrugged, avoiding her eye contact. As much as he wasn't willing to admit it, that's exactly what he had been hoping would happen. Angelina reached over and poked George in the arm, trying to get his attention once more.

"I couldn't do it, George." Angelina looked like she was brushing away a tear but when George looked closely, her eyes looked dry. "To be in the room, to sleep in the room where he..." she trailed off and looked back up at the sky. Clouds had moved in front of the sun, almost as though they knew this conversation was one not to be had on a sunny day.

"I can't do it, George!"

George looked up, shocked at the anger in Angelina's voice. She was looking at him, angry tears in her eyes and her mouth in a thin line. Though he already knew the answer, he played dumb and asked, "Do what, Ange?"

Her answer was exactly as he had expected. "I can't sit around all day letting Fred ruin my life!"

George's stomach lurched at the sound of his twin brother's name being uttered but he remained looking at Angelina in shock.

"Angelina, I know this has been hard-" he began but she cut him off.

"Hard?" she laughed and sprung to her feet, "Hard?" she asked again. "The man I loved decided one day life with me just wasn't worth sticking around for and left!"

"Ange," George tried again but was once more interrupted.

"The man I devoted my life to, decided one night that taking a bunch of fucking pills was a fantastic idea! That his loving family, successful business and tons of money were just too much for him to handle!" She was yelling now, tears running down her face in a bizarre contradiction to the huge smile on her face. She looked quite psychotic and George didn't know what to do so he just lay there, mouth open in shock listening to what Angelina had to say.

"The man who claimed to _love. Me. Back,_" She overly emphasised the last few words as though without emphasis they would have no meaning, one night thought it would be a lovely idea to take these fucking pills, put them in his mouth and his wait around for de-"

"Angelina."

Angelina's angry words were interrupted by the sound of Molly Weasley's soft, very hurt voice.

George jumped to his feet and looked between Angelina and his mother, who had just walked over the hill to help Ron with the glasses of lemonade now floating in mid air in front of her. Ron stood behind her, mouth slightly open as he took in the scene in front of him. For a moment George thought Angelina would apologise but she merely glared at the group in front of her.

"I'm not going to sit around mourning the loss of some arsehole that couldn't be bothered dealing with life the way the rest of us have to and hurt us all on purpose." She spoke quietly, anger dripping from her every word. And with that, leaving George, Mrs. Weasley and Ron in shock on the hill, stormed inside the house. George looked quickly at his mother and said.

"Mum, she didn't mean-" but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"It's time for lunch, boys," she said briskly, turning her back and walking back towards the house.

Ron looked at George who avoided his eyes and followed his mother over the hill. Ron, looking like he was about to say something, closed his mouth and did the same. Once inside the house, George looked around for Angelina but she was not in the kitchen, nor the living room so he proceeded up the rickety stairs to his bedroom. The door was closed and there was no noise coming from inside the room. He knocked quietly on the door with the back of his knuckles.

"Ange?" he called through the wooden door. There was no answer so he tried again, this time only louder, "Angelina?" Still getting no response he sighed and turned the doorknob, not knowing what to expect when he stepped into the room. Wild images shot through his mind, disturbing him. Finally he opened the door and looked around the room. Fred's bed, the one Angelina had been sleeping in, was tidied and made. The floor was clear of any clothing and the huge suitcase containing the rest of Angelina's belongings was missing along with her hairbrush and any other feminine items she had strewn across the shared dresser. As the reality of Angelina's absence began to set in, George shakily sat down on his bed and stared around at the now half empty room, letting the realisation wash over him of how truly alone he was.

**Wow, sorry it has taken me so long to update! I think its actually been about 3 years! Anyway If I still have loyal fans out there please R&R, it will mean the world to me! I promise, cross my heart and hope to die that it wont take me very long to post the next chapter. Love to all of you,**

**EyesDyedBlack xxx**


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